


Going Green

by emynn (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 20:23:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/emynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was all Harry ever wanted for Severus to be recognised by the Wizarding world for all he’d done. But when Severus’ newfound popularity leads to a potential love interest, Harry becomes all too familiar with the old adage, “be careful what you wish for.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Green

**Title:** Going Green  
 **Author:** [](http://emynn.insanejournal.com/profile)[](http://emynn.insanejournal.com/)**emynn**  
 **Other pairings/threesome:** Ron/Hermione  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word count:** 14,370  
 **Content/Warning(s):** (highlight for spoilers) * EWE*  
 **Prompt:** #77: During the war, Harry and Snape develop a camaraderie of sorts. After the war, Snape is absolved of all crimes and given an Order of Merlin. He quickly becomes popular with the younger male populace. When one particular man is rather persistent, Harry develops a "Green Chest Monster." Some sort of wizard disease brought on by extreme jealousy. Only Snape can help. Can Harry get the help he needs without letting Snape know that he is the cause of the disease?  
 **Summary:** It was all Harry ever wanted for Severus to be recognised by the Wizarding world for all he’d done. But when Severus’ newfound popularity leads to a potential love interest, Harry becomes all too familiar with the old adage, “be careful what you wish for.”  
 **A/N:** Thank you to L and A for their help.

 

  
** Going Green **  


Harry Potter glanced down at his watch and frowned. It wasn’t like Severus to be late, and Harry was beginning to grow concerned. Severus had sounded slightly frazzled when they had spoken earlier today to arrange this dinner; Harry only hoped there was nothing seriously wrong.

It was strange to think how far he and Severus had come after seven years of despising each other, in any one of which Harry would have killed him in a heartbeat if he could have. Following Severus’ trial, at which he’d been cleared of all charges, they’d gone out for lunch together, ostensibly so Severus could wheedle out of Harry just how much he’d spent on Severus’ defence so he could pay him back. Harry, of course, had refused, but suggested they grab drinks later in the week if Severus really wanted to discuss it further.

From there, they ended up meeting for a meal or drink nearly every other week. Severus eventually stopped asking Harry how much he owed him, and Harry stopped protesting so vehemently when Severus offered to pick up the tab far more than his fair share. Somehow, it worked for them.

Yes, despite it all, Harry enjoyed Severus’ company. They had a rather comfortable friendship. And these days, when all of Harry’s friends were starting to get married and have babies, it was nice to have somebody else all for his own.

He frowned. That thought wasn’t how he meant it. Except…

“I would apologise for being late, but it’s all entirely your fault.”

Harry laughed as Severus slid into his seat across from him. “Is it now? What did I do this time?”

Severus cast him a withering glare. “The _Prophet_ , Potter.”

Harry snorted. A year after his pardon, Severus had been awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class. While Harry and the rest of the Order felt it was long overdue, a vocal portion of the Wizarding population was outraged that Dumbledore’s killer would receive such a high honour. Harry had spent an entire afternoon throwing breakable items around his house in rage before deciding it would be far more productive to arrange for a multipage story in the _Prophet_ outlining just how much Severus did in the war. The story was a success in that Severus’ name was now gold in the Wizarding community. Of course, there were downsides as well.

“You would think in six months the constant requests for interviews to discuss my ‘persistent bravery and profound sacrifices’ would have died down,” Severus said, opening his menu. “And those wretched harpies won’t take no for an answer. I was accosted by nearly a dozen owls just when I was leaving Hogwarts alone.”

“The media knows what sells, Severus,” Harry said. “And you’re hot.”

Severus arched an eyebrow. “Hot, Potter?”

Harry’s cheeks burned. Damn, he needed to be more careful with his words these days. “Well, you can’t really deny it,” he said. “You’re featured in every paper and magazine these days, and they’re all selling like mad. Just enjoy it.”

“Enjoy it?” Severus balked. “You’re one to talk. How many times did I hear you whinge and moan that the reporters were intruding on every aspect of your life?”

“Well, they’ve backed off a bit since you took over,” Harry said with a grin. “Been rather nice.”

“Prick,” Severus muttered, flipping the page in his menu. “It’s positively indecent for a man of my age to be receiving such… correspondence.”

“Correspondence?” Harry asked, surprised. He’d known Severus was the dark, snarky darling of the press at the moment, but he hadn’t realised there’d been more to it. “Have you started getting fan mail?”

“Enough to make Father Christmas envious,” Severus replied absently. “Marriage proposals, offers of first-born children… as if I’d want anything to do with a snotty-nosed brat.”

Harry laughed. “Better than the Howlers you used to received though, right?”

“Marginally,” Severus said. “Although I’m certain the lurid details included in some of the letters is enough to make a person’s face as red as a Howler.”

“I’d like to see that,” Harry said, taking a sip of water. “I’ve never seen your face turn red with anything except rage.”

“I wasn’t speaking of myself,” Severus said mildly. “You, on the other hand, are another story. You blush far too easily these days.”

“I do not!” Harry protested, but he could feel his cheeks flaming. _Damn it, what was wrong with him?_

Severus arched a brow at him. “Oh, really?”

Harry was saved having to come up with a response by their waiter, who approached their table carrying a bottle of wine. “Excuse me, sirs. There is a young gentleman at the bar who would like to gift you this bottle as a small token of his esteem.”

Severus glanced at the label. “A fine choice. Potter, I will admit your celebrity has its perks.”

“Begging your pardon, sir,” the waiter said, “but the gentleman actually wished to honour you. No offense, Mr Potter.”

“None taken,” Harry said, grinning at Severus’ rather gobsmacked expression. “Severus? Shall we?”

Severus nodded. “Very well. You may pass along my regards, as they are.”

The waiter nodded and poured them both a glass. “Very good, sir. I’ll return in a moment to take your orders.”

“Preposterous,” Severus muttered. “Men sending me bottles of wine… of all the wastes of money – ”

Harry smiled and took a sip of his wine. It was wonderful, of course, but it made his stomach churn.

Chalking it up to hunger after being forced to wait longer than expected for dinner, Harry returned his attention to Severus, ready to enjoy a pleasant evening with a good friend.

~*~

  
Harry pulled on his cloak and gathered his papers in his hands. After a brief moment, he pushed them over to the side of his desk instead. Realistically, he wasn’t going to be doing any work this evening, so it wasn’t even worth the effort of pretending.

“Big plans tonight?” Ron asked. Unlike Harry, he had decided to attempt to stuff a thick pile of papers into his briefcase and was not having an easy time of it. “Ah, fuck it,” he muttered, casting half of them aside.

“No,” Harry said. “Severus and I were going to meet for drinks but apparently he’s finally hiring an assistant and has a few interviews tonight.”

“Snape’s hiring an assistant?” Ron snorted. “There’s a laugh.”

Harry shrugged. The odd feeling plaguing his stomach the past week had returned; he made a note to pick up some soup on his way home. “He’s pretty popular these days.”

“It’s mental, is what it is,” Ron said, closing his briefcase. “Don’t get me wrong, I know we wouldn’t have won without him, and you get along with him well for whatever reason. But that women are suddenly throwing themselves at him like he’s some sort of Slytherin sex god?”

“Men, actually,” Harry said.

“Men?”

“Yeah. Severus says his fans are overwhelmingly male.” Harry shrugged. “There are some women, but apparently he’s some sort of gay icon.”

Ron burst into laughter at that. “Snape? Merlin. Is he even gay?”

Harry threw his rucksack over his shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“ _Maybe_? Harry, mate, your face is bright red. What’s going on?”

 _Damn it. He was going to have to see a Healer about that._ “Nothing,” he said. “Just a bit of a stomach ache.”

“Ah, yeah,” Ron said, suddenly sympathetic. “Did you have the stew for lunch? I thought it seemed a bit off.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “That must be it.”

~*~

  
Harry knocked on Severus’ door. His work had brought him to Hogwarts and he figured he’d stop by to see how Severus was doing. It had been weeks since they’d seen each other; even with a new assistant, Severus’ sudden celebrity had rather monopolised his time.

“Harry,” Severus said, opening the door. “Would you like to come in?”

“Thanks,” Harry said, entering. “I had to stop by Hogwarts and I figured I’d say hello.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve spoken,” Severus said. “I apologise. Between term and trying to figure out what to do with all these blasted letters…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry said.

“What brings you here?” Severus asked, leading Harry into his sitting room. “Would you care for a drink?”

“Please,” Harry replied. “I had to speak with Hilda Pendleton. Her mother’s in St Mungo’s and the Ministry has deemed her illness suspicious. It seems little Hilda’s father is not a very nice man.”

“Pendleton?” Severus asked, frowning. “Ravenclaw?”

Harry nodded. “Third year.”

“Disgraceful,” Severus said, and handed Harry a glass of wine. “Her father has always been a pathetic beast.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, accepting the drink. “So what have you been up to? I would have thought once you hired an assistant your life would get back to normal.”

“I thought so as well,” Severus said, taking a sip from his own glass. “My original instructions were for Agatha to intercept and incinerate all letters and packages.”

“Sounds about right,” Harry said with a grin. “What’s the problem?”

“One in approximately every two hundred letters contains something interesting,” Severus said sourly. “An exceptional potions contact, an offer for a rare artefact… I don’t normally take them up on it, as the last thing I want to do is be in debt to some stranger foolish enough to write me, but – ”

“They’re tempting,” Harry said. “I understand.”

“How do you deal with it?” Severus asked. “I imagine you get countless letters.”

Harry shrugged. “Started a foundation. Hermione helped me get it off the ground, but Hannah Abbott runs it now. I usually only read twenty letters or so a week. Hannah handles the rest of the requests and donations.”

Severus nodded. “Perhaps I’ll see if Draco could use a new project.”

“Draco,” Harry said, taking a long swallow of wine. “He’s seeing Astoria now, isn’t he?”

“Yes, I believe so,” Severus said. “Why?”

“No reason,” Harry said quickly. “But I think that would be a great idea.”

“Yes,” Severus said. “I’ll be sure to owl Draco this week. I’m running out of room in here to store all the gifts.”

Harry chuckled. “So what’s been the most tempting item you’ve received?”

“Truthfully, it was a letter from a young wizard. Your year, I believe.”

“Oh?” Harry asked. “Who?”

“Terry Boot,” Severus replied. “Did you know him?”

“A bit,” Harry said. “He was in Ravenclaw. I haven’t heard much of him these days.”

“He’s been studying potions in Estonia,” Severus said. “It’s one of the most prestigious programs in the world. The masters he studies with are legendary.”

“I’m sure you’re just as good as they are,” Harry said, rather uncomfortable with how eager Severus sounded. He rarely heard Severus become this excited about anything.

“Perhaps,” Severus said. “But to be able to _study_ with them, to absorb their knowledge, see their books… I admit, I’m envious.”

“Hmm,” Harry said. “I guess. So what did Boot propose? He wants you to run off to Estonia with him?”

“Not exactly,” Severus said. For the first time he looked slightly uncomfortable. “He offered to take me out to dinner in Hogsmeade to discuss his studies.”

“He asked you out!” Harry exclaimed. “You realise that, don’t you? And you’re actually considering this?”

“It’s not up to me how he chooses to interpret the dinner,” Severus said waspishly. “For me, it would simply be an academic discussion.”

“And what are you going to do when he makes a pass at you?” Harry asked. “Are you still going to claim it’s just a scholarly discussion when his tongue’s down your throat?”

“Don’t be crude,” Severus said.

“Sorry,” Harry said, deflated. Merlin, why was he getting so worked up about Severus these days? He didn’t have any sort of claim on the man. And hadn’t he always wanted him to have a rich and fulfilling life? Why was he so anxious now that it was actually happening, when Severus was actually getting all the positive attention he deserved?

“And there you go blushing again,” Severus said, sounding amused. “Really, Potter. You’ve turned into a schoolgirl.”

“I’m sure it’s just the wine,” Harry said, and promptly downed the rest of his glass.

Severus snorted. “If you insist.” He paused. “You know, the look is not _entirely_ unappealing.”

Harry grinned. “Thanks,” he said, feeling quite warmer than he had in a long time.

~*~

  
Harry stared into his cup of tea, feeling vaguely shaky. His stomach had been tied up in knots for weeks, and it had started to affect his appetite. He’d barely been able to eat anything all day, and now that he was also suffering from odd chills, he was thinking it would be best to just retire for the evening. But he’d promised Hermione a night out, and he’d make good on it. At least for another ten minutes.

“Harry, are you sure you’re feeling all right?” she asked, returning to the table with a plate of scones. “You look pale and clammy.”

“Probably just a touch of the flu,” Harry said. “I think something’s going around the office.”

“Well, just remember even big scary Aurors aren’t immune to the common cold,” Hermione said. “You need to take care of yourself.”

“Yes, mum,” Harry replied dutifully.

“Shut it,” Hermione said, tapping his shin with her foot. “Now, catch me up on your life. Ron only tells me the boring stuff.”

“The boring stuff?” Harry asked. “Like what?”

“Oh, you know,” she said, “All blood and gore and battles. Nothing interesting.”

Harry laughed. “I remember you being in a fair amount of battles yourself back in the day.”

“Well, I had to,” Hermione said in her usual matter-of-fact tone. “But I wasn’t mad enough to take it on as a career.”

“I suppose not,” Harry said fondly. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

“Any love interests?” she asked. “What ever happened to Simon?”

Harry shrugged. “Just stopped calling.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Did he stop calling you, or you stop calling him?”

“What does it matter?” Harry asked. He took a small bite of a scone. When his stomach didn’t immediately revolt, he took a slightly larger one.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said. “Simon was lovely.”

“Yeah, he was,” Harry said. “He just wasn’t what I wanted.”

“And what is it you want?” Hermione asked. “You didn’t want Simon, or Michael, or Alex, or Richard…”

“That’s not fair, Hermione,” Harry said. “Just because you found the love of your life when you were eleven doesn’t mean the rest of us do.”

“I know that, Harry. It’s only that – ”

“Wait a minute, Hermione. Who is that?”

Hermione turned in her seat to look. “Why, it’s Terry Boot! I wonder what he’s doing here. Last I heard he was studying in Latvia.”

“Estonia,” Harry corrected without thinking. “Did you know him?”

“A little,” she said. “He was the only one who came close to beating me in potions.”

Harry groaned. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Should we call him over?” Hermione asked.

There was no need. Boot had caught sight of him and was already making his way over to their table.

Boot was not terribly threatening. He was of average stature, with brown eyes and dark hair that curled over his collar. And yet when Harry looked at him, the only thing he felt was cold rage.

“Hello Harry, Hermione,” Boot said, smiling. “Long time no see.”

“Terry!” Hermione said, taking his hand. “How have you been? It’s been years.”

“I know,” Boot said, pulling up a chair. “I’ve been holed up studying the past few years. School is rather intense. But we’re on holiday for a week, so I figured I should do something exciting.”

“I’m not sure I’d call returning to London terribly exciting,” Hermione said. “Not after all you’re learning!”

“There’s more to life than books, Hermione,” Boot said. “And school won’t last forever.”

“I suppose,” Hermione said, although she sounded as though she didn’t truly believe it.

“Why are you here, Boot?” Harry asked. It came out harsher than he intended, but his head was throbbing too much to really care.

Fortunately Boot didn’t appear to notice. “Well, this might sound mad, but… I have a date with Professor Snape.”

“What?” Harry asked. “He actually wrote you back?”

“You knew about that?” Boot asked, his eyes widening. “I didn’t realise you and the professor were close.”

“Of course we’re close,” Harry snapped. “We see each other nearly every week. But he actually agreed to go on a date with you?”

Boot nodded, smiling. “We’re having dinner Friday. I might be getting myself all worked up for nothing, but I can’t help but feel this might be it. We just have so much in common.”

“Like what?” Harry asked sourly.

“Potions, for one,” Terry said. “And we both were at Hogwarts during the war.”

“Everybody at this table was at Hogwarts during the war,” Harry said. “And I don’t think Severus is going to fall in love with somebody just because he can brew a decent Shrinking Solution.”

The smile wavered on Boot’s face. “Well, perhaps not,” he said. “But it’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”

“I suppose,” Harry said sullenly.

“Harry,” Hermione whispered. “What’s gotten into you? You’re being terribly rude.”

“Sorry,” Harry muttered. The scone no longer sitting quite so pleasantly in his stomach, he stood up. “Boot, it’s nice to see you again, but I’m not feeling very well. I hope we’ll be able to catch up sometime while you’re here.”

Boot nodded. “Sure, Harry. Feel better.”

“Thanks,” Harry said.

“I’ll check in on you later,” Hermione said. “Unless you’d like me to help you home.”

Harry shook his head. “I’ll be fine. Just need to rest.” With a final nod to Boot, he left, headed to the sanctuary of his warm bed.

~*~

  
“No offense, mate, but you look like shite,” Ron said. “Are you sure you should be at work today?”

“Just waiting for the Pepperup to kick in,” Harry said.

“If you say so,” Ron said, perching on the side of his desk. “Say, Hermione mentioned you ran into Terry Boot yesterday and you gave him a bit of a hard time.”

Harry groaned and buried his head in his hands. “I know.”

“What’s going on, mate?” Ron asked. “I know he was a Ravenclaw, but he wasn’t the worst of them by far.”

Harry shrugged. “I wasn’t feeling well and I took it out on him. If I see him again I’ll be sure to be extra friendly. Is that better?”

Ron shook his head. “Something’s off with you. You haven’t been yourself in weeks. You’re always on edge, like you’re ready to snap.”

“Reckon I need a holiday then,” Harry said, digging through his top desk drawer on the pretext of looking for something terribly important. “Would you and Hermione be up to a week in Jamaica?”

“Harry.”

“Turks and Caicos?”

“Harry, why won’t you just admit you have a thing for Snape?”

“What?” Harry exclaimed. In his shock he slammed the drawer shut with his knee; he grabbed his red fingers, wincing. “What are you on about?”

“You were fine until Snape started getting all this extra attention,” Ron said. “And you never had a problem with Boot until he decided to go on this mad mission to date Snape.”

“Maybe it’s just that I think Severus deserves somebody who wants to be with him for who he is, not because he’s a celebrity.”

Ron only crossed his arms over his chest. Annoyed by the smug look on his face, Harry rose to his feet, kicking his desk as he did so.

“Where was he during Severus’ trial?” Harry demanded. “Where was he when the press was crucifying him every damn day? And where was he when he finally got his Order of Merlin, and the _Prophet_ was _still_ having a go at him every day, like it was some sort of travesty that the bravest damn man in the entire Order actually got recognised for what he did? And where was he when Spinner’s End was vandalised, when he was getting spat on in the streets, when –”

“Harry, Harry, calm down, mate,” Ron said, hurrying over to Harry’s side. “You’re getting yourself all riled up.”

Harry braced his hands on his desk, panting. He felt rather like he did after an intense day of training, but infinitely more vulnerable.

“You know, it’s okay to admit you like the bastard,” Ron said quietly.

Harry shook his head. His heart was still pounding painfully in his chest. “It’s not that simple.”

“It probably is, actually,” Ron said. “You and Snape? Nobody would be surprised, really. Not anymore. But this jealousy? It’s not good for you. It’ll tear you up.”

Harry nodded. “I know. It’s just…”

“You’re adjusting, I get it,” Ron said. “But seriously. Think about it. If you’re interested in Snape, you should just go for it.”

“Can’t believe I’m hearing you say that,” Harry said, attempting a grin.

“I’ve had some time to get used to it,” Ron said with a shrug. “I’ve already accepted that somehow, other than me and Hermione, he’s your closest friend. What difference would it really make if you started shagging him too? Might as well get something out of it.”

“Ron!”

“It’s true,” Ron said unapologetically. “Now get out of here. I’ll tell Kingsley you weren’t feeling well and needed to rest.”

“I’m fine,” Harry said, sitting back down at his desk.

“No, you’re not,” Ron said. He placed hand over Harry’s forehead. “Even if you didn’t look like the walking dead, that’s definitely a fever. Now go home and think about how you’re going to tell Snape you’re madly in love with him. I don’t think he’d go for roses, but perhaps a bouquet of snakeweed would go over nicely.”

“Berk,” Harry said, but he started gathering his things. “What did I ever do you to you?”

Ron squeezed his shoulder. “Been the best mate I could have asked for. Just returning the favour.”

Harry grinned and tossed his rucksack over his shoulder. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

~*~

  
Harry pulled on a pair of pyjama pants and climbed into bed. He had to admit he could do with some more rest. This whole thing was probably just because he was overtired. Likely he would just need a day of extra sleep and wake up in the morning feeling much more at ease.

But he doubted it would change the fact that he had no idea what to do about his feelings for Severus.

Harry was… interested. And it wasn’t entirely outside the realm of possibility, was it? He and Severus were good friends. And while Severus might not be handsome in the traditional sense, Harry found him rather attractive. With those dark, piercing eyes, the way he commanded a room the moment he entered it, that deep voice that was now tinted with fondness when it said Harry’s name…

Harry’s prick gave a hopeful twitch.

Okay, yes. Harry could admit he was attracted to Severus. Very much so, in fact.

And, to Harry’s dawning awareness, it was more than that. He’d long accepted he loved Severus as a friend, but suddenly, he could see it as more. He wanted to be with Severus every day. He wanted Severus to want to be with _him_ every day. He wanted those hands, those graceful, purposeful hands, to hold Harry’s own. He wanted to feel Severus’ heart beating against his, to kiss his lips, to feel his cock brush against his own…

Harry groaned.

He was at least slightly in love with Severus Snape.

And, right now, he was very, _very_ hard just thinking about him.

Biting his lip, Harry palmed his erection through his pants. “Severus,” he whispered, trying the name out on his tongue. He rather liked it. “Severus,” he repeated.

Merlin, what would it be like? He imagined all it would take was one fierce, heated gaze from Severus, and Harry would explode, and he would grab Severus’ face and kiss him hard until they were both breathless.

Harry’s own breath hitched and, now overheated, he tugged down his pants. He quickly found some lube from his bedside table and drizzled a bit of it on his erection, gasping as the cool liquid dripped on hot skin.

“Fuck, Severus,” he moaned, wrapping his hand around his prick.

Yes, they’d be kissing, and Severus would press him up against a wall. Harry would spread his legs and Severus would insinuate his own thigh _there_ , and Harry would be able to feel his cock. Severus’ cock. Severus’ hard, thick cock.

Harry wondered what it would feel like in his hand. He wanted to play with the foreskin, sliding it back and forth before he focused his attention on the head of Severus’ cock. He wanted to touch and feel and stroke the length of it, all while turning his tongue to Severus’ balls…

Oh Merlin, his balls… Harry would lick them lightly, teasing, feeling how they would jump in his mouth whenever he managed to find a particularly sensitive spot on Severus’ cock. And then Severus would clutch Harry’s hair and beg him to put his mouth on his entire prick, and Harry would comply, sucking eagerly as Severus gasped and moaned Harry’s name.

Fuck, it would be so good, Harry would be sucking, and stroking, and Severus would be uttering filthy words of encouragement and then he would _scream_ , he would scream out Harry’s name as he came.

Harry’s orgasm took him by surprise. Panting, he cleaned up the mess with a wordless spell and then collapsed back into the sheets.

 _Merlin._

~*~

  
The next day, filled with equal parts determination and trepidation, Harry stopped by Hogwarts after work. He needed to tell Severus how he felt, or, at the very least, hint at it and see how Severus took it.

He snorted. No, he would end up just coming out with it. Subtlety was never Harry’s strong suit.

Some of Harry’s excited nerves gave way to something… heavier after he knocked on Severus’ door and received no response. He could have sworn Boot had said the date was Friday. Had they pushed it up a day? Fuck, was Harry too late? Damn it, by now they were already probably enjoying their entrees, playing footsy under the table while Boot made cow eyes at his Severus.

His heart sinking, Harry turned to leave. Maybe the date wouldn’t go well. Hell, Severus had said he wouldn’t even view it as a date. That had to mean something, right?

“Harry. What are you doing here?”

Harry looked up, his chest lightening as he saw Severus walking towards him. “You’re here,” he said, aware that he had a thoroughly inappropriate for-the-situation grin upon his face.

Unfortunately, Severus appeared to have noticed as well, if his raised eyebrow was any indication. “Of course I am. Somebody had to oversee detentions.”

“Of course,” Harry said. He took a deep breath; he already felt lightheaded and knew this had the potential to end badly. “I thought perhaps you were on your date with Boot.” _Damn it! Subtle, Potter!_

Severus crossed his arms over his chest. “How did you know about my date?”

“So it _is_ a date,” Harry said. _Damn it, damn it, damn it!_

“Potter, if you would kindly cease acting like a teenager at Madam Puddifoot’s –”

“Sorry,” Harry said quickly. “I ran into him the other day with Hermione. I was just surprised you didn’t tell me you’d agreed to a date.”

“Excepting the fact that this is dinner, not a date,” Severus said, opening his door and gesturing Harry inside, “I didn’t realise you wished for me to run all my social engagements by you. You certainly don’t do the same with me.”

“Actually, I pretty much do,” Harry said. _That was true, anyway._

“Really?” Severus asked, sounding surprised. “You truly don’t date very much, do you?”

“I date enough,” Harry said. “And I know my face is red. You don’t need to tell me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Severus said, smirking. “Tea?”

Harry shook his head. This wasn’t going at all as he had planned. It would likely be best if he just left now without doing any further damage. “No, thanks. I really should be going. I’m not really sure why I came here.”

Severus frowned. “Harry, is everything all right? You haven’t seemed like yourself recently.”

Harry shrugged. “Just figuring some things out, I guess.” He paused. “You do know dinner on a weekend is usually considered a date, right?”

“I am aware of that, yes,” Severus said, not looking entirely convinced by Harry’s explanation. “However, I am a grown man. I harbour no illusions about what tomorrow will be. I’m not expecting to find the love of my life at this stage in my life.”

“But… if it went well,” Harry said, unable to stop the words from escaping from his lips. “If you liked him, and he clearly likes you… would you? You know. Do… something?”

“Contrary to popular belief, I am not immune to love,” Severus said quietly. “While I do not actively seek it out, nor do I expect it to find me, if the situation presented itself, I would not fight it.”

Harry nodded slowly. His head was pounding as a high-pitched ringing sounded in his ears. “I see.”

“But, as I said,” Severus said, his voice back to its normal level, “I expect nothing to come out of this. It was mere intellectual curiosity that led me to accept Boot’s invitation.”

“Right,” Harry said. “He is quite smart. Always has been. Brilliant, really. Just behind Hermione.” _And brilliance was one thing Harry would never have to offer Severus._

“Indeed,” Severus said. He frowned again. “Are you certain you’re not ill? You’re looking a little green.”

“I might be coming down with something,” Harry said quickly. “Took off yesterday but I guess it didn’t do the trick.”

“I advise you rest this weekend. You’re not on duty, are you?” When Harry shook his head, he continued on in a conspiratorial tone, “Perhaps if you’re well you can stop by on Monday and I can tell you all about my date.” He smirked. “I won’t even make you schedule an appointment with my assistant.”

Harry closed his eyes. He knew in his head Severus was teasing; he never spoke that way about himself, even if he _was_ a celebrity now. But still hearing the words come out of his mouth cut Harry to the core. Heaving a deep breath, he opened his eyes, facing both his most longed for desire and his deepest fear.

“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe I’ll do that.”

~*~

  
Harry didn’t bother going in to work the next day. In addition to his dread over Severus’ date and his jealousy of Boot, he also spent most of the night before expelling the contents of his stomach into his loo. This flu was truly coming at the worst possible time; it was all too easy to drown in self-pity with both his love life and his immune system in shambles.

He knew he was overreacting. What were the odds that Severus would fall desperately in love with somebody on their first date, especially with a man he hadn’t even seen in years?

 _Of course, if he was going to fall in love with you, wouldn’t he have done something about it by now? You see him all the time._

Harry groaned and poured himself another cup of tea. He would just go see Severus tomorrow and ask how it went. And, so long as Severus wasn’t all doe-eyed over Boot, Harry would tell him how he felt. If only he could get over his blasted stomach bug.

A knock sounded at the door and Harry jumped. Instinctively, he looked at the clock; it was a few minutes before seven. Perhaps Severus suddenly realised he loved Harry and thus couldn’t possibly even pretend to be interested in anything Boot had to say, and was coming by Harry’s to –

Harry threw open the door to find Ron and Hermione standing on his front step. “Oh, hello,” he said, holding it open to allow them in.

Ron snorted. “I know you’re not feeling well, but we thought we’d get a _bit_ warmer of a welcome since we brought you soup and all.”

“Sorry,” Harry said, closing the door.

“How are you feeling, Harry?” Hermione called out, already in the kitchen. “It’s not like you to take off work.”

“Pretty lousy,” Harry said, sitting down at the table. “But you didn’t have to come over here. It’s Friday night. You two should be out together.”

“Don’t be silly,” Hermione said, placing a steaming bowl of soup in front of Harry. “Now, have you seen a Healer yet?” She placed a hand on his forehead. “Hmm, definitely a fever. Why are you out of bed?”

“Hermione,” Harry muttered, pushing her hand away. “Thanks for the soup, but please stop poking me.”

Ron laughed from where he was refilling Harry’s cup of tea. “Hermione, give it a rest, will you? You don’t need to see a Healer for every little cold.”

“So says the man who last week tried to bleed to death from an elbow wound on the living room floor,” Hermione said, sitting down next to Harry. “Harry, I’m coming by again tomorrow, and if you’re no better, I’m bringing you to St Mungo’s myself.”

“I’ll be better,” Harry said, stirring his soup. “I have to see Snape.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look. “Look, Harry,” Hermione said. “We didn’t want to bring this up while you weren’t feeling well, but… this obsession you have with Snape really isn’t healthy.”

“It’s not an obsession,” Harry said. “I’m interested in Severus and a little jealous that he’s seeing somebody else. That’s completely normal. Ron, even you said it the other day.”

“But you’re making yourself sick over it, Harry,” Ron said. “I mean, I know you’ve picked up a bit of a bug, but I can’t help but think you’d be over it by now if you weren’t obsessing over Snape and Boot.”

“You’re really not one to talk,” Harry said. “Remember how furious you were when you found out Krum kissed Hermione? And you, Hermione! You’re the one who sent a flock of birds to attack Ron when you found out about him and Lavender.”

“Well, that’s different,” Ron said. “We were in love with each other.”

Harry glared at him. “And?”

Hermione sighed. “It’s not that we don’t believe you think you feel that way, Harry –”

“Not think, Hermione,” Harry interrupted. “I _do_ love Severus.”

“Or do you only think you love him because you’re jealous somebody else might have him and you’ll lose one of your closest friends.”

“You have a rather low opinion of me, don’t you,” Harry said, his voice low.

“I’m not trying to be insulting,” Hermione said. “You just have to admit it all came on rather suddenly. You were never interested in Severus before others starting paying attention to him.”

“Did you ever think maybe it’s just a coincidence?” Harry asked. “Haven’t you all ever heard of friendship turning into something more? Again, I have to ask you to look at yourselves.”

“Harry…”

“No, Hermione,” Harry snapped. “I’m interested in Severus because I _like_ him. I more than like him. I love his courage. I love how biting his jokes are and the way he expresses himself. I love how I can talk to him for hours and never get bored or even notice time has passed. I love that he treats me like a regular bloke, not like the Chosen One. I love his passion, his loyalty, and his intelligence. And, for what it’s worth, I’d also love for him to pound me into the mattress. Now, are there any more questions?”

Ron and Hermione stared at him, slack-jawed. “No,” Ron said quietly, shaking his head.

“Good,” Harry said, and finally helped himself to a spoonful of soup. “The soup’s good.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said quietly.

Refusing to feel self-conscious with the way his friends were studying him, Harry continued eating. It was the first thing of substance he’d had all day, and he had to admit it was pretty delicious. When he finally finished, he looked up.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said, tears in her eyes. She reached out to grasp Harry’s hand. “I do hope it works out.”

“Me too,” Ron said, clapping a hand to Harry’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” Harry said. He sighed. “Anybody want a drink? I can’t have any, but there’s no reason you two should have a lousy Friday night because of me.”

“It’s not lousy,” Hermione said, squeezing his hand. “We’re with you.”

Harry smiled. He was exhausted, and his stomach was still queasy. He was trying desperately not to think of Severus, or what he and Boot might be doing at that very moment. But for now, he had his friends. And no matter what happened with Severus, that would never change.

~*~

  
Harry knocked at Severus’ door for the third time and waited. He knew he should have owled first, but he still wasn’t feeling all that well and was afraid if he didn’t leave immediately after his dose of Pepperup, he wouldn’t be able to make it at all.

Of course, now he was at Hogwarts when he really just wanted to be back in bed, and Severus wasn’t answering his door. _Probably because he’s at Boot’s hotel room, in bed, naked…_

The door swung open. “Harry,” Severus said. “My apologies. I was reading in my study and didn’t hear you. Come in.”

“No problem,” Harry said, grinning. He was too relieved to see Severus alone to care much about being left waiting. Besides, it was just like Severus to be too distracted by a good book to pay attention to the outside world. It was one of the things Harry loved about him. “What are you reading?”

“An as-yet-unpublished book on moonstone in potions,” Severus said. “It’s fascinating.”

“I bet,” Harry said. “How’d you manage to get a hold of it? Some poor sod in love with the great potions master who mailed it off in hopes you’d fall head over heels for his genius?”

Severus snorted. “Hardly. Boot loaned it to me. It’s one of his professor’s manuscripts. Boot assisted with the research. Tea?”

“Sure,” Harry said, feeling very shaky. “Just like a Ravenclaw to bring a book to a date, huh?”

“It would be, but he didn’t,” Severus said, handing Harry a cup. “He had it in his hotel room.”

“I see,” Harry croaked. “So you went to his hotel room?”

“Of course,” Severus said. “I had to retrieve the manuscript somehow. Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

“Right,” Harry said. The tea was sloshing in its cup and Harry knew it was because he himself was shaking, but he was powerless to stop it. “So it went well?”

“I suppose. I – Harry!”

Harry looked down. He hadn’t even realised the cup had slipped from his hands, but now it was shattered on the floor and his shirt was soaked with scalding hot liquid. “Damn,” he hissed.

“Take your shirt off,” Severus said. When Harry didn’t move quickly enough, Severus waved his wand, and Harry felt his shirt tear free. “Merlin, Potter. What’s wrong with you today?”

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’ll clean it.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Severus said. A short, fat jar levitated towards him, and he grabbed it. “Put some of this on your chest.”

“Okay,” Harry said, but didn’t move.

“Harry, you’re worrying me,” Severus said. “You’re literally looking rather green. Are you certain you’re feeling all right?”

“Of course,” Harry said, but he felt his knees collapse under him.

“Harry!” Severus exclaimed, catching Harry under his arms. “That’s it. I’ll get Poppy.”

“No,” Harry mumbled. “I’m fine. It’s just – ”

“Harry, you look like death. Let’s get you to the couch and – ”

“No,” Harry said, gathering enough strength to break free of Severus’ grasp. “Just…I can handle this, okay?”

“Harry.”

“No,” Harry said. His head throbbing, he made his way to Severus’ fireplace and threw a handful of Floo powder into it. “Harry Potter’s home!” he shouted, and escaped.

Safe at last, he stepped out of his own hearth, and promptly fell to the floor.

The coolness of the floor quite nicely complemented his breaking heart.

~*~

  
“Physically, there’s nothing wrong with him.”

Harry stirred in his bed. Even without his glasses, he could tell there were more people in his room than had any right to be there. “Huhhh…”

“Oh, Harry. You’re awake.” Hermione moved to Harry’s side and placed his glasses on his head. Harry could see that in addition to Hermione, Ron and a strange man were in the room. “You gave me such a fright. I can’t believe you thought to leave the house in your state.”

“Who?” Harry asked. His throat was quite dry and he could barely bring himself to speak.

“This is Healer Haverford,” Hermione said gently. “He’s from St Mungo’s and specialises in… unusual cases.”

“Not… sick?” Harry asked. Ron handed him a glass of water, which he took gratefully.

“Strictly speaking, no,” Haverford said. “As you may have heard, physically, you are as healthy as a hippogriff.”

“Feel like hell,” Harry managed to make out.

Haverford chuckled. “Yes, I expect you do.”

“So what’s wrong with him?” Ron asked. “Why’s he like this?”

“The downsides of being a wizard as powerful as Mr Potter,” Haverford said. “You’ve experienced accidental magic in your past, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Of course,” Haverford said. “Typically wizards grow out of it, except for in extreme circumstances. However, as an exceptionally powerful wizard, you have more magic running through your bloodstream. Normally this is a wonderful thing, but when it runs amuck, particularly in wizards who tend to experience very strong emotions…”

“What are you saying?” Harry asked, trying to sit up. Hermione tucked a pillow behind his head.

“Strong emotions causing a literal physical reaction,” Haverford said. “Now, Mr Potter, your friends tell me you’ve been experiencing a touch of jealousy lately. Is that true?”

“Maybe,” Harry said. “So?”

“So that, in combination with your magic, has made you quite literally sick with jealousy.”

“Among other things,” Ron muttered. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

“So if I just stop being jealous I’ll feel better?” Harry asked.

“More or less,” Haverford said. “I can give you potions to somewhat alleviate the symptoms, but I’m afraid until you resolve your issues, they will only serve as a temporary solution.”

“Great,” Harry muttered. “That’s one way of forcing the issue.”

“He was already here,” Hermione said quietly. “He was here when I arrived.”

“But he’s not here now, is he?” Harry asked. “That says it all.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” she said. “He stayed until Haverford arrived and left to brew some potions for you back at Hogwarts. You might have a fighting chance.”

“Right,” Harry said. He cleared his throat and said more loudly, “Ron? Mind helping me to the loo?”

“Sure, mate,” Ron said, moving to his side. He pulled Harry’s arm around his shoulder and helped lift him out of bed. “Steady on.”

When they reached the bath, Harry stopped to splash some water on his face. He felt hot and clammy and couldn’t wait to take a cool shower.

But when he looked into the mirror, his jaw dropped.

Every spot of his skin was bright green.

~*~

  
Harry groaned, holding his head in his hands. “I’m _green_. Green! How the hell am I going to be able to go back to work?”

“Perhaps we should look into meditation,” Hermione mused. “Or yoga. Relaxing your mind might have a positive effect.”

Harry closed his eyes. Hermione’s words only reminded him of Severus telling him to relax his mind as he tried to teach him Occlumency all those years ago, and his heart skipped a beat. “Hermione…”

“I think you just need to tell him,” Ron said. “Severus says he’s into you too, problem solved.” He snorted. “And then he gives you a kiss and you go back to normal. It’s a bit like the frog prince. Only he’s technically the prince here, isn’t he?”

“Ron, shut up,” Harry said.

“Sorry,” Ron said, sounding contrite.

“Besides, what if he tells me he’s not interested?” Harry asked. “What do I do then? Just go on holiday until I’m over him? Kingsley isn’t going to let me patrol with green skin.”

“You wouldn’t patrol anyway with the rest of your symptoms,” Hermione said primly. “Honestly, as if going after criminals with a fever and stomach issues would solve anything.”

“But why wouldn’t he be interested?” Ron asked. “You’re Harry fucking Potter.”

“Severus never cared that I’m Harry Potter,” Harry said glumly.

A knock sounded at the door. After squeezing Harry’s shoulder, Ron stood up to answer it.

“Professor Snape,” Ron said. He glanced back at Harry, who grabbed a pillow off his couch and buried his face in it. “Might as well come in.”

Harry felt a hand press on his shoulder. “How are you feeling?” Severus asked.

Reluctantly, Harry lifted his head. “How do you think?”

“I’ve always dreamed of seeing you decked out entirely in Slytherin green,” Severus said, smirking. “I always thought I’d have to wager a bet with you for it to happen. If only I’d known you simply needed a common case of jealousy…”

“Healer Haverford left some potions behind for Harry,” Hermione interjected. “Would you like to see?”

“Yes,” Severus said, standing. “It’s always fascinating to see what swill St Mungo’s is passing up as healing potions these days. Harry, I doubt you shall be imbibing any of them, just so you’re aware.”

Severus left with Hermione to examine the potions, and Harry once again buried his head in his pillow.

He already thought it would be impossibly difficult to confess his true feelings to Severus. But now he had to do it while he was green?

Damn, but at times he hated being Harry Potter.

~*~

  
An hour later, Harry was alone with Severus. Hermione had thought it would be easier for Harry to tell Severus how he felt without them around, and Harry didn’t disagree.

Of course, it was still pretty damn difficult to try to convince a man he should be with you when you rather resembled a gangly frog with spectacles, but he supposed that wasn’t really their fault.

“This would go by much faster if you’d tell me what was making you jealous,” Severus said, handing Harry a glass filled with a milky blue potion.

Harry swallowed it, grimacing. “Come on, we both know you’re a genius,” he said. “Can’t you just create a blanket anti-jealousy potion?”

Severus sighed and took the empty glass. “I thought Haverford explained it to you – the anti-jealousy potion would only be a temporary solution. This is all in your mind. Thus, we need to determine a way to eliminate the stressor.”

Harry frowned. “It’s a bit personal.”

“We’ve had plenty of personal conversations,” Severus said, sounding slightly insulted. “I would think you’d feel comfortable revealing whatever it is to me, if it meant it might cure you of this affliction.”

“It’s just – ” Harry froze. What if he told Severus and he didn’t feel the same way? It was hard enough for Harry to look at Severus now and know there was a chance he’d never be interested in Harry. He wasn’t sure he’d survive the blow of knowing it for certain. And how would Severus take it? Harry could think of several possibilities, none of which ended well.

When it came down to it, if it was a question of staying green for the rest of his life or losing his friendship with Severus, Severus would win every time.

“I can’t,” Harry said. “Not yet. I’m sorry.”

Severus nodded. “Very well. I trust you know when you’re ready to share, my ears are always open.”

“Yes,” Harry said. “I know.”

“I can’t help but be taken aback by the irony of it all,” Severus continued. “One never would have thought Harry Potter of all people would be felled by jealousy when most of the Wizarding world would give anything to swap lives with him. Or, at least, to be with him.”

Harry snorted bitterly. “Hasn’t your own celebrity taught you anything? The public doesn’t know anything.”

“No, they don’t,” Severus agreed. He paused. “Harry, whoever the man is who is not returning your affections… he’s a complete and utter fool. He would be lucky to even have you look in his general direction.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “How did you know?”

“It’s the only possibility that made sense,” Severus said. “I trust you’ve told this man how you feel?”

“No,” Harry said. His throat felt uncomfortably tight. “He’s… seeing someone else. And even if he wasn’t, it’s complicated.”

“I’ve found things are seldom as complex as they appear,” Severus said.

“You’re one to talk,” Harry said, forcing a smile. “You’re the king of complexities.”

“And look where it’s gotten me,” Severus said. “I’m nearly fifty, bitter and alone, with few friendships and, until a misguided reporter wrote a piece of sensationalist journalism, even fewer prospects in life.”

“But that doesn’t matter,” Harry said quickly. “Things are going better for you now, even if it _was_ due to the _Prophet._ You have a future.”

“I do,” Severus agreed. “But it’s not because of the _Prophet_. It’s because of you.”

Harry stared intently down at his hands. He was afraid if he looked Severus in the eye, all his secrets would be exposed.

And now, he knew even more than before, that was something he simply couldn’t risk.

Severus finally had a chance at happiness, for a future. He’d spent the vast part of his life ruled by guilt; Harry wasn’t going to allow Severus to waste even another second of his life feeling guilty for not returning his affections.

He’d just have to get used to feeling green.

~*~

  
It took a week, but Harry finally managed to get his symptoms under control. Well, truthfully Severus had done all of the work; he’d gone above and beyond ensuring Harry was comfortable, brewing him potions around the clock and stopping by every day to check on how he was doing.

“You’ve been incredible,” Harry said, studying his reflection in the bathroom mirror. “You can’t even tell I spent the last week looking like a walking cucumber with glasses.”

Severus snorted and entered the room. “And you’ll continue to look like that until you get your jealousy under control. The potion will lose its potency the more you use it; you can’t use it forever. You’ll wake up every morning as green as the Slytherin common room until you sort out the root of your troubles.”

“I know, I know,” Harry said impatiently. “I just can’t wait to get back to work.”

“The other potions will cease to be effective as well,” Severus continued. “I know it’s easy for you to fixate on the symptom causing your… more obvious symptoms, but you won’t be able to work if you can’t keep your lunch down, either.”

“Don’t worry, Severus,” Harry said, running a hand over his cheek. “I know.”

Severus crossed his arms over his chest. “You know, some people believe the best way to deal with jealousy is first to acknowledge it.”

Harry snorted. “Believe me, Severus. I know exactly why I’m jealous and whom I’m jealous of. Hasn’t done too much good.” It was interesting, though. Harry knew on some level he was still jealous of Boot. He still certainly wanted Severus. But all negativity associated with envy was gone. Harry felt light and blissful, even more peaceful than he had before realising how he felt. “These potions really are incredible.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “You’ve said that. But I’m afraid I can’t accept all the credit.”

“Is that so?” Harry asked, turning to face him. “Who else do I owe a thank you?”

“Boot assisted me,” Severus said. “He was particularly helpful with the potion that returned your skin to its normal, dewy state.”

“Oh,” Harry said, feeling, despite the potions, a slight twinge of jealousy. “How is that going?”

Severus shrugged. “Well enough, I suppose. He leaves for Estonia tomorrow.”

“Good,” Harry said immediately. He flushed at Severus’ raised eyebrow. “I mean, I hope it was a good visit.”

A strange looked passed over Severus’ face, but a second later Harry decided he must have imagined it. Severus’ face was once again set in its usual neutral lines. “So he’s said,” Severus replied.

“Have you kissed him yet?” Harry asked, cringing inwardly even as he heard himself say the words aloud. He wondered if it was the potions loosening his lips.

“No,” Severus replied.

“Are you going to?” Harry didn’t want to ask, didn’t even want to know. But he couldn’t help but ask.

“You’re asking a lot of questions,” Severus said. “Why the sudden curiosity in my affairs?”

“I’m always curious about you,” Harry said, his heart pounding.

“You’re blushing again,” Severus commented, a small smile upon his face. “I’ll admit that when I first saw you in your green state I was afraid we wouldn’t be graced by this charming sight again.”

“Shut up,” Harry muttered. He turned back to face the mirror. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so nosy.”

“Harry.”

In the mirror, Harry could see Severus step forward. After a moment of hesitation, Severus placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry felt his breath catch in his throat.

“If anything should happen, I promise, you would be the first to know.”

Feeling the wind go out of him, Harry hung his head. Merlin, for a second, he had really thought…

 _Idiot._

“You know, I’m still feeling a little tired,” Harry said. “I think I’m going to go take a nap. I’ll see you later.”

“Are you certain you’re all right?” Severus asked, frowning. “The potions should have alleviated any tiredness.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Harry said. “Just a lot of excitement today, you know? I’m sure it’s normal.”

“If you say so,” Severus said, clearly not convinced.

“Go on,” Harry said, plastering a reassuring smile on his face. “Go enjoy your night with Boot.”

“I didn’t tell you I was seeing him tonight,” Severus said.

“You didn’t have to,” Harry said. “If it were my last night in town, I’d want to spend it with you, too.”

“Harry…”

“I’ll see you later,” Harry said, moving past Severus to leave the bathroom and head towards his bedroom. “Just lock the door behind you, okay?”

And if there was one thing Harry was proud of, it was that he managed to wait until he heard the soft _snick_ of his front door closing before he gave way to his grief and allowed his tears to fall.

~*~

  
Severus attempted to Fire-call Harry three times that night. He also sent several owls. Apparently Harry’s acting was slipping and Severus didn’t believe him when he said nothing was wrong.

But by the time the sun had set, all communication had ceased.

Not that Harry had any right to complain, of course. It wasn’t like he had responded to any of Severus’ attempts to reach him. What did he expect Severus to do – cancel his date with Boot just to send more owls for Harry to ignore?

 _Yes,_ a petulant voice in Harry’s head said.

Harry barely slept that night. He couldn’t stop thinking of what Severus and Boot were up to at that very moment. Had their dinner run long? Did Boot invite Severus back to his hotel room? Did they end up in bed together, entwined together in a sweaty, passionate embrace? Would they wake up together in the morning, still blissfully in each other’s arms?

More than once Harry had been tempted to Fire-call Severus, even at this insane hour of the night, just to see him and put some of his fears to rest.

Unfortunately, Harry’s greatest fear of all was that his suspicions were all correct.

Harry gave up trying to sleep a little after four. He hauled himself out of bed and into his study where he found himself a quill and ink and, after only a moment’s hesitation, began penning his resignation letter.

It was abundantly clear his obsession with Severus wasn’t healthy, and he knew it would never get better so long as Harry still needed to face him on a regular basis. Besides, he always wanted to do some travelling. He’d go off and see the world, then return back home when his heart had recovered.

 _If_ it recovered.

A strange sense of tranquility fell upon Harry after he sent off his letter. He felt free – he wasn’t doomed to remain here in London, so close and yet so far away from what he wanted most.

All that remained was to tell Severus.

~*~

  
Harry took a deep breath and drew back his shoulders. He wasn’t going to put off doing this. The sooner he got it out of the way the sooner he could get on with his life… and, possibly, the sooner he could get back here.

He was just about to knock on Severus’ door when he heard voices come through the other side.

“Just consider it, will you? I think you’d really love it.”

Harry stepped back to avoid being hit by the opening door. “We’ll see,” Severus said, ushering Boot out. Upon seeing Harry, his eyes widened. “Harry!”

“Hello,” Harry said, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt. “Do you have a minute?”

“Certainly. Let me just see Mr Boot off,” Severus said.

Harry nodded and entered Severus’ room, quickly closing the door behind him. He might be embarking on a quest to be comfortable with the fact that Severus was dating somebody else, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see him kissing Boot just yet.

Feeling rather like he was saying good-bye to his own home, Harry walked slowly about the main area of Severus’ quarters, trying to commit each feature to memory. How many nights had he and Severus sat on that sofa, drinking wine and talking about their days? And there was that large cast iron cauldron that sat in the corner of the sitting room that Harry somehow managed to stub his toe on nearly every visit. And, of course, there was the photograph perched on Severus’ mantel. It was how Harry had known he’d finally won Severus’ friendship, when that picture of the two of them having tea in the Great Hall had appeared.

He sighed, his chest tightening. Merlin, but he would miss it all. He harboured no delusions; it would be devastating to leave it all behind.

But it would hurt even more to stay.

“Why wouldn’t you answer your Floo?” Severus demanded, startling Harry. “Or at least respond to one of my letters?”

“I wasn’t feeling well,” Harry said. He forced a smile upon his face, even as his stomach threatened to revolt. He would make an effort. He’d do it if it killed him. “Besides, looks like you had quite the evening with Boot. I wouldn’t have wanted to get in the way of that.”

“Harry…”

“What does he want you to consider?” Harry asked. His blood was pounding in his ears; any of the serenity his potions usually granted him had vanished. “What did he think you’d love?”

“He wants me to visit him in Estonia,” Severus said.

“He wants you to _visit_ him?” Harry repeated, his voice rising. “What, can you not fuck him the way you want to in Hogwarts so you have to go to fucking _Estonia_?”

“Harry!” Severus snapped. “What’s gotten into you?”

“He’s my age!” Harry shouted. “If you’re going to be interested in somebody my age, why wouldn’t it be me?”

Silence greeted Harry’s outburst. He stood, panting, well aware he’d gone too far. Merlin, when had he lost all control over himself? Why was he still standing here, screaming at Severus just like he had done when he was a sodding teenager? It was pathetic, humiliating. He wanted to disappear.

“Why would I ever be interested in you?” Severus asked softly.

Oh, Merlin. _This_ is what heartbreak felt like. Harry felt like a thousand knives were stabbing into him at once, the bulk of them striking him directly in the chest. The wind went out of him and he shook his head, trying to jolt himself back into the moment and outside of his head, which was screaming at him to get out, _get out_ , and his heart, which was begging him to just fall to the floor in defeat.

Tears blurring his eyes, Harry blindly moved towards the door. “I have to go,” he whispered.

Severus grabbed Harry’s arm. “Harry. I didn’t mean – ”

Harry shook it off. “No. Just… no.”

And before Severus could say another word, or another stupid question could spring forth to Harry’s mind, he opened the door and fled.

~*~

  
Harry planned to go to a bar to drink away his sorrows, but the moment he arrived at the one around the corner from his house he knew that wasn’t the solution. For one, he still didn’t have the stomach for it. For another, he simply wasn’t ready for oblivion yet. Perhaps it was his masochistic side, but after denying his feelings for Severus for so long, he needed to _feel_ them now. Ignoring his heart was what had led him to this disaster. He was a grown man, and he needed to face his fears and his mistakes.

And so instead he settled on his old standby, and Apparated home to grab his broom. While he knew Hermione would have his head if she knew he was flying after being so ill, he also knew this was his most reliable coping mechanism. He felt stronger in the air, more secure. His problems wouldn’t threaten to drown him up in the air.

The large grove of trees behind his house was the main reason he’d bought the property in the first place, and as Harry kicked off and soared into the air, he was once again reminded how fortunate he’d been to find this place. He only hoped he’d be so lucky to find such a suitable home wherever he landed next.

He sighed and flew a little higher, reaching just slightly above the trees. Merlin, where would he go? He certainly had enough money to travel pretty much anywhere he wanted, except… there was nowhere he especially wanted to go.

Fuck, it hurt.

And wasn’t it just too rich? Harry bloody Potter, the Chosen One, the one voted Most Desirable Wizard by the _Daily Prophet_ seven years in a row, heartbroken over not being desired by the man who would likely win the honour this year.

Rain started to drizzle from the clouds ahead, but Harry didn’t mind. Actually, with the way his body was flaming, the cool drops felt nice upon his skin. With a new burst of energy, Harry took his broom even higher and then swung down in a deep dive.

Merlin, this is what it felt like to be _alive_ , not entrapped by jealousy or rage or love. Rejuvenated, Harry again rose high above the trees, this time descending swiftly in looping spiral patterns. It was dizzying and nauseating but Harry was in control. It was just him and the same elements he had faced time and time again. Wind, rain, they had no power over him. Nothing at all like being in love with an unattainable, untouchable man.

So what if Severus didn’t want him? Harry didn’t need him. He’d gotten along just fine not having Severus as a romantic interest for years, and he’d be fine again. Yes, right now it was a shock. Hell, it’d be quite a blow to anyone to be rejected so easily. That Harry felt like he’d lost his very soul meant nothing. It was temporary. All would be well.

But once Harry saw lightning flash between the trees, he knew his respite was over. Reluctantly he began his final descent, feeling his spirit grow heavier the closer he got to the ground.

It didn’t matter how Harry felt when he was in the air. Reality was the heavy mud sinking beneath his feet – he was desperately in love with Severus, who didn’t have the slightest interest in him.

Somehow feeling worse than before he mounted his broom, Harry slowly made his way back to his house. There was no point putting it off, he decided. He’d make a list of potential destinations and then get in touch with Hermione when he knew she was done with work for the day. Hopefully he’d be off in his new home by the end of the week.

Harry knew the second he entered his house he wasn’t alone. His wards were still standing, however, so he knew it wasn’t an intruder. “Damn,” he muttered. Kingsley likely asked Ron about his resignation, and Ron was likely quite angry with him. “Ron?” he called out, taking off his soaking wet cloak. “Is that you?”

But it wasn’t Ron who stepped out of Harry’s kitchen, looking furious and ready to deck Harry.

It was Severus.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked. He shivered, but it was more due to the intensity of Severus’ gaze than the cold.

“What am _I_ doing here?” Severus asked, his voice a low whisper. “I am chasing after the man who fled my rooms in near hysterics. And then,” he said, slowly moving closer to Harry, “while I am here waiting, his boss appears in the Floo and mentions that he turned in his resignation with no explanation other than he needs to ‘leave England immediately.’ And _then_ ,” Severus was mere inches away from Harry now, “when I look out the window, I see the man himself performing daredevil stunts on a blasted broomstick in the middle of a thunderstorm, even though just _days_ before I was vanishing the vomit from the basin by his bed because he was too weak to make it to the loo.”

Harry refused to cower. “What business is it of yours what I do? You’ve made it abundantly clear how you feel.”

“Yes, because I was certainly able to clearly explain myself before you decided to fly off like an owl with its tail on fire.”

“Shut up!” Harry shouted. “You made your decision. You don’t get to –” Harry clasped his hands to his mouth. He was feeling dangerously lightheaded. He could feel his knees buckling underneath him, even as he tried desperately to stay upright.

“Harry,” Severus said, the rage in his face replaced by concern. He grabbed Harry beneath his armpits, managing to catch him just before he began to fall. “Come on now,” he said with surprising gentleness, swooping Harry up into his arms. “Up you get. I believe it’s time for a hot bath.”

“This is why I have to go away, don’t you see?” Harry said, tears stinging his eyes. “I can’t stay here like this.”

Severus said nothing, but carried Harry up the stairs and to the bath. He set Harry down on the bath mat and ran the faucet. “Do you need assistance undressing?” he asked, not looking at Harry.

“No,” Harry said. He still felt rather shaky, but he wasn’t about to endure the indignity of Severus undressing him, a cruel pantomime of what he _really_ wanted from the man. He got out of his clothes as quickly as he could, keeping his eyes on Severus’ back the entire time.

When the tub was filled, Severus took Harry’s hand and helped him into the bath. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes to help you out,” he said, still not making eye contact with him.

Harry nodded, humiliated. Merlin, the man couldn’t even stand to _look_ at him? Was he _that_ unappealing? Sure, he was on the skinny side, and his hair was all over the place, but he wasn’t _that_ bad. Surely not any worse than Boot. Or perhaps Severus felt he was being disloyal to Boot by looking at another naked man. After all, what kind of man woke up in bed with one man and then eyed up another that evening?

Nausea rose in Harry’s throat again.

Severus waved his wand in a complex pattern, which Harry recognised as a monitoring spell. Then, with a final reminder of “twenty minutes,” he left.

Harry closed his eyes and tried to relax in the tub. The hot water did help fight the chill shaking his body, he would admit. However, being alone in the room and knowing that Severus was in his house, likely with one eye on a clock to ensure he returned in precisely twenty minutes, was nerve-wracking. Harry couldn’t help but feel he was about to face certain death – actually, rather like how he felt right before Potions class when he was at Hogwarts.

Severus didn’t knock when he returned, only opened the door, a dressing gown over his arm, and held out his hand to Harry. Determined not to display any discomfort, Harry accepted both the assistance and the dressing gown.

But as he was tying the gown around his waist, Harry caught Severus’ gaze, and it nearly took his breath away.

He’d been terrified of Severus. Terrified of his reaction, terrified he’d be kind to Harry only out of guilt-ridden obligation, terrified of how their future would turn out. But in that moment, that briefest moment before Severus blinked and looked away, Harry could see that he was terrified as well.

It was the most encouraging sign Harry had seen all week.

“We need to talk,” Harry said, before his tempestuous courage fled once more.

Severus raised an eyebrow. “In my sitting room and in your kitchen is unacceptable, but you’re comfortable doing so in your bath?”

“I’ve been an abysmal friend,” Harry said, ignoring him. “This is an exciting time in your life, and instead of being supportive, I’ve only been selfish. I’ve allowed jealousy to poison our friendship.”

Severus frowned. “Harry,” he began.

“But even if I hadn’t,” Harry continued, “I still think you deserve somebody who wants you for you, not for your celebrity. You’re an incredible man, Severus, and you only deserve the best.”

Severus tilted his head, studying Harry. “I believe that’s the line that’s expected to be spoken to you.”

“Funny how things work out, isn’t it?” Harry said, shrugging. “Anyway, maybe I’m all wrong and Boot’s perfect for you. I mean, he’s fit enough, and he’s certainly got the brains.”

“Harry,” Severus said.

“You don’t have to worry though,” Harry said. “I realise now I’ve been acting like a spoiled child. Just because I’m interested in you doesn’t mean you need to return the sentiment. But… I just can’t be here right now. I need some distance, only until… until I get my head straightened out again.” _And my heart._

“May I speak now?” Severus asked.

“Sorry,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Of course.”

“First, you should know that despite how it might have looked, Boot didn’t spend the night last night.”

“Is that so?” Harry asked, his heart pounding.

“No. I had my assistant cancel our appointment last night when I was otherwise distracted, and he stopped by in the morning to say good-bye and invite me to Estonia.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “Well, I know it’s not really any of my business. I should never have reacted the way I did. It was petty and childish.”

“What’s more,” Severus continued. “You never let me finish my statement back at Hogwarts. When I asked why I would ever be interested in you… it was simply a matter of self-preservation.”

Harry blinked. “Sorry?”

“Harry, you must understand,” Severus said. “I never expected us to have any sort of relationship once you left Hogwarts. That we would develop a friendship was… extraordinary. There are still some days when I can scarcely believe you care for me. To even dare think of anything more was… utter folly.”

“I don’t understand,” Harry said. “We’re friends. Did you think I was just humouring you, that I don’t actually care?”

“No, of course not,” Severus said quickly. “You misunderstand me. But Harry, you… you were untouchable. Completely beyond my grasp, to the point it was a complete waste to even contemplate the possibility.” He sighed. “It’s a struggle enough as is. To allow myself to dwell even a moment in fantasy… it would be unbearable, to have you close enough to touch but entirely out of reach.”

Harry swallowed. “And what if I weren’t so entirely out of reach? What if I said I’m afraid I’m already in love with you, and I – ”

Harry’s words were swallowed in Severus’ kiss. Groaning, he wrapped his arms around Severus’ neck. There was no gentleness in their embrace; it was hot, fiery, possessive. Years of unrealised desires boiled over, and they clung to each other, desperate not to let the moment slip away.

“Yes,” Harry murmured, his lips slipping to the scars on Severus’ neck. “Yes.”

Severus’ hands lowered to Harry’s bum. “This is not exactly how I envisioned this going.”

“I thought you didn’t envision it at all,” Harry said, leaning in even closer to Severus, thrilling when he felt his erection press up against his leg.

“I meant when I realised that, once again, I’d have to chase after you to prevent you being a danger to yourself,” Severus said, still peppering Harry’s face with kisses.

“And what did you imagine then?” Harry asked. “Were you not expecting a kiss?”

“I was _hoping_ for a kiss,” Severus said, demonstrating his point by once again pressing his lips to Harry’s. A long moment later, breathlessly, he added, “I only never imagined for your shower curtain to be the backdrop.”

“We can go somewhere else,” Harry suggested. He took Severus’ hand and pulled him out of the room. “How about my bedroom? It has a bed.”

“How ingenious,” Severus said, following him.

The moment they reached Harry’s bedroom, Severus untied Harry’s dressing gown, allowing the garment to slip to the floor. “Perfect,” Severus said, his hands trailing up and down Harry’s sides. “Perfect.”

“You wouldn’t look at me in the bath,” Harry whispered. “I thought I was… unappealing.”

“What have I told you about self-preservation, Harry?” Severus asked. He kissed Harry’s nipples, first his left, then his right, and then began a slow descent of kisses trailing down Harry’s chest. “If I had allowed myself more than the briefest glimpse at you in the bath, I doubt I’d be able to stop myself from doing this.” And then, without hesitation, he took Harry in his mouth.

Harry couldn’t suppress a groan. The sight of Severus kneeling before him, looking up at him with lust-clouded eyes as he sucked his cock was better than anything he ever could have dreamed of. “Fuck, Severus,” he said. “That’s it. Yes. Please. _Please._ ”

Severus, fortunately, was a merciful lover. He licked and sucked at Harry’s prick, alternating his rhythm every so often to keep Harry from coming too soon. And it was a good thing, too: Harry could never remember being this aroused in his life, and it took all of his control not to climax the second Severus focused his attention to the head of his cock.

But once Severus began to _hum_ , Harry knew he had to take action. “Severus,” he gasped. “Can’t… want to…”

Severus released his prick with a soft _pop._ “You would prefer to wait?”

“I’d prefer to come down your throat this very second and be up for another go in a minute, but I don’t want to risk that not happening,” Harry said, helping Severus stand. He wrapped his arms around his waist and kissed him fiercely. “Because more than anything, I want to come with your cock inside me.”

“Mmm, a most satisfactory plan,” Severus said, guiding Harry to the bed. “Besides, there will be plenty more times for you to come down my throat.”

“Will there?” Harry asked, pulling Severus down onto the bed with him.

“Yes,” Severus said, working to kick off his shoes. “Down my throat, on my chest, in my arse… anywhere you want.”

“Yesss,” Harry hissed. “Come on,” he said, pushing Severus’ robes off his shoulders. “I want to see you.”

“You realise my body is not exactly what the _Prophet_ might lead you to believe,” Severus warned.

“Good,” Harry said. He gazed at Severus’ now naked body, admiring the lean muscles and lightly furred chest, as well as that hard, red cock, feeling his mouth run dry. “I don’t want anybody in the _Prophet_ to know just how good I have it. I’d have to beat them off with a Beater’s bat.”

“And we all know how you handle jealousy,” Severus said, nuzzling Harry’s neck.

Harry froze. “Severus? I’m not… that is, I don’t…”

Severus kissed him. “I was teasing, Harry.”

“But I’m not normally like that,” Harry insisted. “There was just something about you… and _Boot._.” A horrid thought, one that he couldn’t believe he hadn’t mentioned earlier, flew into his mind. “Did you… do you want Boot?”

“Boot is irrelevant,” Severus said. “And truthfully, we never did anything more than talk, regardless of what he may have desired.”

“And you never wanted to – ”

“I never wanted him like this,” Severus said, lining Harry’s neck with kisses. “I never wanted him in my bed. I never wanted him to touch me like this.” His hand reached for Harry’s cock, gripping it only tightly enough to restore it to full interest. “He could leave my life entirely tomorrow and I wouldn’t spare him another thought.”

“And me?” Harry asked, hating how nervous he sounded.

Severus’ expression grew sombre. “Harry, if you left, I fear I’d never recover.”

“And this… this isn’t just sex, is it?” Harry asked. “I mean, I just know you said you thought you’d never have a chance, so this isn’t just you… having your chance to shag me, is it?”

“Harry,” he said, caressing his face, “you have allowed me to release the dreams I guarded the most fiercely in my soul. So when I speak of having a chance with you? I mean a chance to love you for the rest of my life and dare to trust to receive that love in return. It is a chance to love you, to live with you, to bond with you… whatever fate shall have in store for us. With you.”

“Severus,” Harry breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Severus asked, raising a brow. “That’s not the reaction I was expecting.”

“No,” Harry said, reaching up to touch Severus’ cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. I was just so afraid of ruining our friendship that instead I just almost allowed my jealousy to ruin everything. Do you know how close I was to leaving?”

“You always did have to make things difficult,” Severus said, but there was no admonishment in his tone. “Besides, I would have found you. We would have wound up in this very position before very long.”

“You’re taking all this very well,” Harry commented. “Considering how loudly you were shouting earlier.”

“Well, then I was quite angry with you for nearly killing yourself flying in the middle of a storm when I needed to speak with you,” Severus said, and again began stroking Harry’s cock. “Now I am touching my untouchable dream. It’s difficult to summon much anger in that situation.”

“I just wish I had told you earlier,” Harry said. “All that time wasted…”

“It may have taken longer than necessary, but it is what brought us together,” Severus said. “There’s no point in belabouring the issue now.”

Harry pulled Severus down for a kiss. “I just can’t believe this is actually happening.”

“Well, strictly speaking, it hasn’t happened yet,” Severus said, his hands moving to cup Harry’s arse. “Lubricant?”

Harry rolled over and grabbed a phial from his bedside table. “You’ve no idea how much I want this.”

“I believe I might,” Severus said, pouring some of the lubricant out onto his fingers. “Have you done this often?” he asked, far too casually for a man with his fingers slowly working their way into Harry’s entrance.

“Not… not really,” Harry gasped. “There’s never really been anybody who, ah, _Severus_. Anybody who I wanted to be with me.”

“Good,” Severus said, his voice hot against Harry’s ear. “You’ll find I can be quite jealous as well.”

“Fuck,” Harry whispered as Severus worked his fingers. “God, Severus. This is better than I’ve dreamed.”

“Did you dream of this?” Severus asked, still thrusting his fingers in and out. “Did you _fantasise_?”

“Yes,” Harry hissed. “Fuck, Severus. I thought about it all the time. Of you stroking me, sucking me…”

“Fucking you?” Severus asked. He removed his fingers and Harry whinged in protest, but Severus cast him a heated stare before drizzling more of the lubricant on his cock. “Did you think about me fucking you in this bed?”

“Oh, god, yes,” Harry gasped. “Severus, please.”

Severus lined his cock up with Harry’s entrance. “Was it like this?” he asked, gently pushing in.

Harry moaned. “Severus…”

Severus said nothing, only continued his slow breach of Harry’s opening. His gaze, focused and intense, never left Harry’s face. It was by far the most erotic experience of Harry’s life.

“Oh, my god,” Harry said, breathless. “Severus, you feel so fucking good inside me. So full.”

“You want this,” Severus said, pulling out and then thrusting back in. “You want me inside you.”

“Yes,” Harry said. “Oh, fuck, yes. Always.”

“You like feeling my cock inside you.”

“I love it,” Harry said. “More. Please.”

“Yes, Harry,” Severus said, and thrust in once more.

It was better than Harry could have ever imagined. Severus quickly established a steady rhythm, brushing against Harry’s prostate every other stroke. Harry couldn’t suppress his gasps and moans, but Severus didn’t seem to mind. In fact, the sounds only seemed to spur him on, and he pounded harder and faster into Harry.

“Severus,” Harry finally managed to ground out. “Think I’m going to come.”

“Do it,” Severus said, taking Harry’s prick in his hand. “Come for me, Harry.”

And how was Harry supposed to resist that? He came with a shout, crying out Severus’ name with his release.

“Fuck, Harry,” Severus groaned. “Look at you. Your cock. Your come. So… so fucking beautiful.”

“Want you to come,” Harry said, meeting Severus’ gaze. “Want to feel it inside me.”

“Yes, Harry!” Severus gasped. He thrust once more, then stilled. Harry reached up and pulled him down for a kiss. Severus kissed him like a man possessed, hot and desperate and yearning.

It was a long time before either of them was able to speak again. Harry contented himself with resting his head in the curve of Severus’ neck as Severus toyed with his hair. Their embrace was as tender and peaceful as their lovemaking had been frantic and passionate. Harry felt safe and cherished in Severus’ arms. He was loath to ever leave them.

“Are you still planning on quitting your job?” Severus asked. His voice was soft and sleepy, and Harry wondered if it was similar to how he sounded when he awoke in the morning.

“I guess not,” Harry said. “I like it well enough, and I do need a job. But I wouldn’t mind taking a bit of a holiday.”

“Why don’t we?” Severus asked, his hand tracing lazy circles on Harry’s back. “The term will be finished in less than a month, and it’s been years since I’ve travelled.”

“You’d want to?” Harry asked, surprised. “Really?”

“I’ve found the celebrity life to be quite tiresome,” Severus said loftily, but his tone was belied by the tender kiss he graced Harry with. “I wouldn’t be opposed to escaping it all for a holiday with my handsome, young lover.”

“The _Prophet_ will have a field day,” Harry said. “I’m stealing the Wizarding world’s most eligible bachelor.”

“The _Prophet_ can go to hell,” Severus said, pulling Harry close. “Any publication that thinks _you’re_ the lucky one…”

“But I am,” Harry said, and kissed him. “The luckiest.”

“Hmm,” said Severus. “We may have to agree to disagree there.”

“I can live with that,” Harry said, smiling.

“Good,” Severus said. He paused. “I suppose I should have asked this earlier, but I’ve already demonstrated my lack of control where your cock is concerned… but you _are_ feeling better, yes? Now that you realise there is absolutely nothing for you to be jealous of, as my heart and body and soul were all yours the second you asked?”

Harry felt his face heat. He’d never had anybody declare their feelings for him in such a romantic way, and that the words were coming from Severus made them that more incredible.

“I rather like the way you blush,” Severus said, stroking Harry’s cheek. “It was the attribute that very nearly did me in.”

Harry smiled. “Then I’ll have to blush more often.”

“And I’ll endeavour to help you in that task,” Severus said. He kissed Harry’s scar. “But you do feel more yourself? No signs of illness? Or… going green?”

Harry entwined his fingers with Severus’ and squeezed his hand. “Yes,” he said. “Never felt better.”

And as they drifted off to sleep, still curled in each other’s arms, Harry realised how very true it was. It was not simply the absence of the soul-consuming jealousy that had twisted his insides into knots.

It was the feeling of knowing he loved Severus Snape as deeply and fiercely as he himself was loved.

And there was nothing, _nothing_ that was better than that.

-The End-

  
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